


Pragmatics

by DragoJustine



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode s04e01 Small Victories, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-21
Updated: 2008-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-16 04:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/857654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragoJustine/pseuds/DragoJustine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Sometimes I can break writer’s block by writing a scene of almost pure dialog. This is actually the sequel to Unlooked-for Gift, in that it resolves the conflict beginning to simmer in that one. No, really. If you were in Daniel’s POV that would make sense, I swear.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Pragmatics

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I can break writer’s block by writing a scene of almost pure dialog. This is actually the sequel to Unlooked-for Gift, in that it resolves the conflict beginning to simmer in that one. No, really. If you were in Daniel’s POV that would make sense, I swear.

"I gave the order to kill you."

"No, you didn't. I gave the order. Davis carried it out."

"Technically," Daniel said. "But he looked at me. He wouldn't have, if I hadn't nodded."

Jack started a little at that, swore softly under his breath. 

"He's a friend, Jack. He's protected us on every other front. Why not this one?"

"Because he might think this is different."

"He's a friend," Daniel repeated, with a flat end-of-conversation finality.

Daniel dropped the headgear back over his ears, reloaded, and fired five more shots downrange. Jack waited until he paused to check the target, cleaning his own un-fired weapon for an excuse to stay.

"I gave the order to kill you. Aren't you at all... distressed by that?"

"No. It was the right call."

"Killing you can't possibly be the right call."

"A, it wasn't a decision to kill me, it was a decision to save the planet. And B," Jack said, ticking off a second finger, "I'm still alive."

"Fallacious." Daniel couldn't strip and clean his sidearm without concentrating. His attempt to use that as a distraction, an automatic occupation for his hands, degenerated into awkward fiddling. "B, Asgard-ex-machina is irrelevant to the decision-making. And A, killing you was a much more direct consequence of the decision than saving the planet. I shouldn’t relegate that to side-effect because it's more comfortable."

Jack reached out to still Daniel's hands before he dropped something. The pads of his fingers brushed the back of Daniel's hand as long as he dared. Daniel stilled, but didn't relax.

"More direct consequence? It's not about philosophical shit like that. It's about priorities. If you need to think of it as saving the planet in order to make the right call, that's how you think about it."

Daniel looked up then, eyes widening slightly, his face set halfway between revelation and shock. "Is that how it really feels to be you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That level of pragmatism. Intellectual arguments determined by necessary outcomes, instead of the other way around. Action dictates everything."

It wasn't hard to extrapolate what Daniel thought of that. Jack felt his jaw grinding and forced himself to unclench it. It wouldn't be the first time someone had needed to think of him as a monster to preserve their own world view; wouldn't be the last. Even Sara. But Daniel...

"I have spent most of my time here feeling morally superior to the military personnel I work with. I was both raised and educated to believe... certain things. About soldiers. About morality. About logic and philosophy and examination and ethics and -- it doesn't matter."

There was nothing to say to that. Jack restrained himself, but only barely. 

"The thing is, Jack, that in three years I've never seen you make a wrong call. Ones based on incomplete or incorrect information, sure, ones I disagreed with, but never wrong, in the final analysis. And yesterday I gave the nod to kill you, and the thing that bothers me most isn’t that I did it, it’s that I almost didn’t do it.”

Daniel holstered his weapon. Jack opened his mouth to say something about taking care of his tools properly, then changed his mind and said instead, “Let’s get you lunch.” It wasn’t an attempt to change the subject; it was a willingness to stay engaged, despite his complete helplessness. Daniel probably understood that. Jack never could figure out how much he understood, but it was usually enough. 

They walked.

“You do what you need to do, and you think the way you need to think in order to be able to do that. Pragmatism isn’t justification, it’s coping. It doesn’t keep you from being a moral man in theory, it allows you to be one in practice. And without men like you--”

“Daniel. Don’t. Whatever you think I do, I don’t. It’s not -- it’s just how you do this job.”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Daniel answered. His mouth twisted wryly, the first returning trace of ease. “On this front you aren’t qualitatively different from, say, Teal’c.” 

They fell silent as a group of airmen passed them. When Daniel spoke again, his voice carried the false lightness that came when he chose his words very carefully. “A, it seems that you and Teal’c are better men than me for the very reason I always suspected you were worse. And B” -- he held up his fingers and waited for Jack to give a grudging smile at the duplication -- “Teal’c is not the one I am personally concerned with.” 

As the commissary came in sight, Jack said, “Meatloaf. Hallelujah, eh?” 

“Not hungry. Actually going to go back to my office now.” 

Jack paused, frozen. His hand hovered in the air between them, without a safe place to land. Daniel smiled, truly sincere for the first time all day.

“This is not me freaking out. Don’t worry. Just understanding some things. Tonight, right?” 

“With bells on.”

Daniel turned, coming close enough for Jack to bump their shoulders lightly, and headed off back down the hall.


End file.
